


Blondes and pointy glasses

by Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:02:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile/pseuds/Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile





	1. Chapter 1

Strolling into his kitchen at 2am, one thing Bro Strider did not expect to see was his beloved, yet awfully made, swords balanced in a precarious pile on the counter, and a pair of pale, shapely legs illuminated by the light of the fridge. Eventually the culprit leans out, adjusts the aviators currently nestled in her blonde hair, and grins at the elder Strider, holding a carton in her hand. Bro's lips quirk into a faint, if slightly confused smirk and he looks down at the teenager, his Southern accent apparent in his words.  
"Dave didn't tell me we had a bombshell stayin' the night." He quips, leaning against the counter. The blonde, still on the floor, grins at him with her black painted lips and shakily rises to her feet, placing the carton of juice on the counter in front of them.  
"Dave didn't tell you he had a guest over for the night? That's so rude! But i'm assuming you are the legendary Bro Strider, formerly Dirk, president of puppet porn and excelling at putting your brother in uncomfortable, yet incredibly ironic situations." She says the entire thing without a hint of irony, but the twinkle in her eyes gives the game away. Bro cocks his eyebrow.  
"Of course, but Bro for short. An' just who are you, lil' lady?"  
The girl bobs a shaky curtsy, and Bro suspects she's slightly intoxicated. Fuck. He'd have to talk to Dave about raiding his liquor cabinet again. He also can't help but allow his eyes to quickly roam over and appreciate the thin cotton of the baby pink vest top she was wearing. It reached about mid-thigh and allowed him to see most of her cleavage. He bit back the thoughts forming themselves in his mind because what the fuck, he's 26 and she's about Dave's age.  
"-oxy Lalonde, 17. Cat petter extraordinare."  
He bet she was, and he wasn't talking about the furry animals. He nods his head at her, noting the blush on her cheeks.  
"So, Miss Lalonde, what were ya doin' with my fridge and its wonderful, metal contents?" He enquires. She laughs, holding the carton of what he can see now is orange juice. His orange juice.  
"Oh, Mr Strider, I was just moving these "shitty hunks of junk" as Dave says, out of the fridge to get a drink. His apple juice tastes awful but he said you wouldn't mind if I drank some of this." As she speaks, he watches her unscrew the carton and tip the carton to her lips, black staining the white plastic of the neck. Bro wrinkles his nose and Roxy looks sheepish. "Sorry! Force of habit!" He shrugs, keeping his face without any emotion whatsoever. She pops the carton back in the fridge, leaves the shitty swords sprawling on the counter and swans off, the vest top riding up to reveal black lace underwear barely covering her behind. Loading the swords back into the fridge, the Strider bites back a groan at the Blonde's exit and heads to his own room.


	2. Chapter 2

Shutting the door, Bro makes his way over to his bed, one hand running through his spiked hair as he flops down. Removing his pointed shades, he looks up into the mirror fixed onto his wardrobe, amber eyes bright even in the semi darkness. The computer screen casts a blueish glow across half of his room; the gaudy patterns of Dave's SBaHJ website. The lil' man's been in his room again. The brother grunts at this news, not too bothered by this. Dave's got enough sense to not fuck with his shit, unless he wants a strife. Like last time.   
After a while his thoughts turn to Roxy, the way she left the kitchen, the vest top riding up to reveal her underwear and pale thighs. He runs a hand down his chest before sitting up and pulling the white polo off, leather clad hands gently moving lower. He wonders what it'd be like to hold her, her fragile frame against his, lifting her up onto the kitchen counter- no, his bed. Her legs opening and wrapping round his waist- ughh. His stoic face, usually so collected, fights to hold back moans as his hand slides into his tight black jeans to grip his member, pretending it's her as his hand moves slowly up and down, his thumb rubbing the tip. Bro wonders if she tastes like strawberries, and his mind switches to a different scenario, his face buried in between the girl's spread thighs, holding her hips down with his hands. He feels his release getting close and strokes faster, shutting his eyes as his lips caress the body of a girl who tastes of strawberries, and there's only one name burned into his mind. He groans out, the name Roxy forming on his lips as he reaches climax, his seed spilled over his tanned hand and black glove. He blinks, feeling disorientated, before quietly cleaning himself up and sitting down at his computer to another night of blogging and posting up new products on his smuppet website. Strangely enough, all the girls he reblogged that night were blonde.


End file.
